


To Love a Gorgon

by snibnoom



Series: To Love a Monster [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: Sanha heard the story of the man with stone eyes a hundred times as a child, but he learned to lock his curiosity behind a door. Years later, with a thousand new questions hidden away in his mind, a key presents itself in the form of a young man named Minhyuk. Sanha clings to every answer he gets, and his heart begins to cling to Minhyuk. The man with stone eyes isn't a beast hiding in a man's body as he was led to believe, but that doesn't mean the forest is safe.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Sanha grips the knit blanket to his chest, his thin arms shaking with excitement as another roll of thunder shakes the panes of glass in the window. “Tell me the one about Jakyung again.” _

  


_ His mother tucks a deep brown curl of hair behind her ear as she sighs. “Again?” Thunder interrupts her words. “I’ve been telling you her story for a fortnight, Sanha. You don’t want to hear a different one?” _

  


_ Sanha, determined as a six-year-old can be, shakes his head. His eyes dart to the window as lightning fills the world outside, outlining the whitewood trees, then return to his mother. “Jakyung’s story is the best. You say she was the best. You and Aunt Eunjoo met her before and you told me she was the best. She loved the goddess.” _

  


_ As Sanha’s mother had said time and time again, Jakyung was her mother’s father’s sister—Sanha's great-gran'aunt. She devoted herself to the temple where the man with stone eyes lived and worshipped the forgotten goddess—the Black Deer, Lady Eunseo, the one whose shrine sits unattended in the manor’s cellar. Sanha had memorized the tale of Jakyung long ago, but his mother’s rendition brought the story to life in a way his young mind couldn’t. _

  


_ “Okay.” His mother settles onto the edge of his bed, resting her hands in her lap. “But I’ll only tell it once more, and then it’s time for another story.” _

  


_ Sanha pulls the heavy wool cover tighter around himself and presses his knees together in anticipation. _

  


_ “Jakyung was a beautiful woman,” his mother begins. “She wore dresses of green and gold and her hair was long enough to brush the floor as she walked. And Jakyung was wise. The town respected her and she had many suitors, but her heart had one purpose: to serve the temple and the goddess Lady Eunseo. _

  


_ “Jakyung visited the temple almost every day. Her heart yearned for the temple even when she was away. She wished to spend every moment bathed in the love of Lady Eunseo, but she couldn't live at the temple. Lady Eunseo had already chosen the temple’s guardian. Jakyung’s trust in the guardian, in the man with stone eyes, would prove to be her greatest downfall. She listened to his kind words and saw through his stone eyes to what she believed was an even kinder heart. _

  


_ “Over the years, as Jakyung’s family had served the temple, the village on the river nearby had begun to grow into a bustling town. People brought with them their ale and gambling, their barely-clothed women, their talk of war with the invaders on the northern horizon. What had been an open field where Jakyung’s family would hold their prayers with travelers was now tainted, and the people of this town were godless. They turned their eyes upon unholy wishes and let themselves fall victim to the temptation of false gods. _

  


_ “Jakyung avoided the town as much as she could. The townspeople viewed her more favorably than any of her family, but their attention was too much of a distraction from her love of Lady Eunseo. One day, she had to venture into the streets to find a certain herb. The man with stone eyes who lived at the temple had asked Jakyung to find it for him, and since the man with stone eyes was a servant of the goddess, Jakyung did as asked. _

  


_ “But when she made her way into the town, they had turned on her. They chased her between the trees as she ran for cover, not towards her home, but the temple. She knew the walls of the temple would keep out the townspeople if only she could get inside. _

  


_ “Jakyung broke through the trees and ran for the temple doors, but the man with stone eyes appeared before her. The kindness she had seen in him had gone, and his stone eyes were black with betrayal. He struck out at her and she wailed in agony as his stone eyes cast a curse upon her. The stone grew over her feet and her legs, up her stomach and across her chest. Jakyung realized the man with stone eyes was no servant of the goddess but was an imposter. He was an envoy of a new god who had taken residence in the temple that once belonged to Lady Eunseo. And as the stone grew over her neck and face, Jakyung knew she would find no help. _

  


_ “And the town killed the man with stone eyes!” Sanha shouts, sitting up suddenly. “They drove him through with their spears and swords and he died on the temple steps!” Sanha sets his hands as if holding an imaginary spear and makes jabbing motions at the air. _

  


_ His mother smiles. “That’s right, love. And the townspeople heard Lady Eunseo return to her temple and they heard her voice declare that no man, woman, or child should ever set foot near the temple, or else fall to the same fate Jakyung had found.” _

  


_ “And that’s why we don’t walk the path anymore.” Sanha lays back down, grinning widely. “The goddess said she doesn’t need temples or shrines. That’s why the shrine in the basement never has candles lit like the shrine for Father Hangyeol in the town.” _

  


_ His mother pulls back, a line appearing between her brows. “Did you go into the basement?” _

  


_ Sanha shakes his head. “You said I’m not allowed to. Gran’mother Soyi told me about the shrine.” _

  


_ The line between his mother’s brows deepens. “And Father Hangyeol? Is this another god they’ve started to worship in the town?” _

  


_ Sanha nods. “Bomin said Father Hangyeol protects all of us. I told him that isn’t true, because that’s what Lady Eunseo does. That’s why I pray to her every night.” _

  


_ “You—” His mother sighs. “Listen to me, Sanha. I don’t want you to play with Bomin anymore, or anybody who worships Father Hangyeol. Do you understand me?” _

  


_ Sanha drops his eyes. “But they’re my friends.” _

  


_ “I mean it, Sanha. You stay away from them and stay away from the shrine. And no more praying to Lady Eunseo.” _

  


_ “But she’s supposed to protect us.” Sanha looks at his mother. “How is she supposed to know to protect us if I don’t pray to her?” _

  


_ “No, Sanha.” His mother scoots closer to him on the bed, grabbing his wrist to secure his attention. “Don’t do that. Do you understand me? I'll lock you in your room if I find out you’re praying to Lady Eunseo, or Father Hangyeol, or any other god. You stay away from the gods and their shrines.” _

  


_ “But—” _

  


_ “I’ve made my mind.” His mother stands, flattening the skirt of her dress. “Get some rest.” _

  


_ Sanha tugs the blankets to his chin as his mother takes the lamp from the crate beside his bed. The room grows dark as she goes to the door, shadows taking residence in the corners and around the foot of his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut when she closes the door and fights against the sound of rain beating against the roof. Sleep finds him fitfully that night, and every night after for months, as his mother’s stern words play in his head. _

  


_ You stay away from the gods and their shrines. _

  


* * *

  


Sanha kneels on the gray stone floor beside one of the pillars supporting the roof of Father Hangyeol’s shrine. How many times had he kneeled in this same place? How many times has he lit a candle to stand before him as he bows his head to pray? Sanha doesn’t need to look at Father Hangyeol’s sigil, an eye upon a gauntlet carved into the stone above his head, to picture it in his mind. He’s spent so many hours staring at the sigil and hoping, wishing for protection that it has been seemingly etched onto the insides of his eyelids.

  


The shrine is empty now, the way Sanha prefers it. Nobody sits on the rough stone benches. Nobody stands in the corners to monitor his prayer. No priest’s bare feet appear before him with an offer to pray together. Sanha takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His mother would kill him if she knew he was here, but she would never find out. Sanha is the only one who has left the manor in the last decade, and nobody outside their family is allowed near it—for their safety, not for the safety of his family.

  


Sanha holds his candle to the flame of the oil lantern set beside the pillar until the wick catches. He sets the bottom into the shallow recess in the stone in front of his knees. As the flame begins to eat away at the wick and warm the wax surrounding it, the smell of jade seeps into the room. Wind whistles through the windows at the front of the shrine and Sanha watches the light of his candle flicker but hold. He smiles.

  


The items on Sanha’s prayer list range from inconsequential matters to sensitive subjects. He prays for rain, as the crops need it desperately. He prays for his second brother, who had moved far south with the woman he’d fallen in love with and hadn’t sent them a letter since he left. He prays for a swift end to the war in the North. He prays for his Gran’mother Soyi’s health to return. He prays for his eldest brother’s spirit, wherever it may rest in the Nine Blessed Cities; his brother had gone north to fight the invaders and hasn’t returned a letter in over a year, so Sanha has accepted he must be dead. Sanha watches the wind attempt to quell his candle’s flame as he prays for an escape from Chunwon, this town that has been his prison since he was born.

  


At the sound of many heavy footfalls, Sanha bends close and blows out his handle. He slings his cloth bag onto his shoulder and returns the candle to the small box at the front of the shrine for another worshiper to use when they come to pray. As he turns for one of the two exits, three men in uniforms appear to block his way, a sword strapped to each of their hips.

  


“You,” one of the men says, cutting off the conversation his friends had been having. “You’re from the family who lives outside of town; the  _ monks.”  _ He spits the word out like it’s a curse.

  


Sanha’s family hasn’t practiced the way of monks in three generations, but he knows this isn’t the time nor place to say so. These are soldiers of King Beodeul’s army, come to them from the capital city of Nambaek. He should keep his head down and let them say their piece. Chunwon is near the front lines of the war with the invaders; they  _ need  _ the soldiers, but most of them are mean spirited and vile in both speech and manners. Nobody in Chunwon—probably in the entirety of the kingdom, Sanha thinks—likes the soldiers, but they’re tolerated.

  


“Monk,” one of the other two soldiers scoffs. He has a chain looped from the bottom of his ear to the top. “I think I fucked his mom last night. Some monk she is.”

  


As the first two men laugh, Sanha’s grip on the strap of his bag tightens.

  


“Though,” the second man continues, “it could’ve been another slut. The woman this far north all look the same to me—flat faces and big tits.”

  


The two men laugh heartily again, but the third keeps an unreadable expression.

  


The first one steps up to Sanha, a hand on the simple hilt of his sword. “How old are you, boy?”

  


Sanha says nothing, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

  


“Hey. I asked you a question.” The man shoves him so hard that he stumbles, tripping over one of the stone benches and only barely keeping himself upright. “Don’t you people up here know how to answer questions?”

  


Sanha rights himself, clutching the strap of his bag. “I’m nineteen.”

  


The man whistles. “Nineteen and you haven’t picked up to join the war yet? What reason did you give when the general’s recruiting parties ran through your town?”

  


Sanha clenches his jaw and looks the man in the face. There’s a scar running from the man’s cheekbone to his chin on the left side of his face, and a smaller one through his right eyebrow that seems purposeful. His head has been shaved, poorly, and there are flecks of dirt on his nose.

  


“My eldest brother took the sword for our family,” Sanha says. He holds his voice steady in the way only a victim of constant bullying can. “My second brother went south with his wife three years ago, before the invaders came close to our town. I don’t know if he joined the army. My father died many years ago, so I am the last man in my family. My mother is not well, and my gran’mother’s health is failing. I have to stay.”

  


The man’s eyes narrow. “Your mother  _ and  _ your grandmother are sick?” He sniffs loudly and scrunches his nose. “Smells like shit to me.”

  


Sanha’s fingers are around the strap of his bag so tightly his nails dig into the skin of his palm. “My father died many years ago, and I am the last man in my family. I have to take care of my gran—”

  


The slap sends him to his knees. He presses a hand to his cheek instinctively, gasping at the pain and tasting the bitterness on his lip where it’s begun to bleed. There’s hardly a moment for him to compose himself before a man’s foot drives into his stomach and the air leaves his lungs. Sanha falls onto his side, against one of the stone benches, as his body struggles to take in air. A thousand leagues away, one of the other men yells. Sanha’s fingers scrape at the stone floor as his body remembers how to breathe and he gasps, coughing on the air he takes in.

  


“Hey, take it easy.” A hand rests on Sanha’s shoulder, and he instinctively cowers away from it. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’. Can you breathe?”

  


Sanha takes another gasping breath and nods. His stomach hurts. He’ll see a bruise shaped like a man’s foot soon enough.

  


“Let me get you back home.”

  


Sanha shakes his head. He can’t.

  


“I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

  


Sanha coughs, leaning onto his hands and knees. He shakes his head again. Nobody can come close to the manor. Sanha looks at the man, the third soldier who had hung back while his friends spewed disgusting words. Nobody, especially not a soldier, can come close to the manor.

  


“I’m takin’ you home. Come on.”

  


Sanha fights the man’s help to no success. As the man guides him out of the shrine with an arm around his back, Sanha lifts the cloth back onto his shoulder once again and grips the strap with all his might. He will not lose the contents of the bag.

  


High peaks of roofs breach the tops of the trees in the distance, hardly visible at first. When the overgrown path begins to slope upward more sharply and the tops of the fence surrounding the manor come into view, Sanha stops walking.

  


"You should go back to town," Sanha says to the soldier.

  


The soldier shakes his head. "I'm seein' you home safe." He begins walking, but much slower now. "Your gran'ma, what's she sick with? We might have medicine to spare for 'er."

  


Sanha shuffles behind the soldier, his gaze on the pebbles of the path. "No medicine could cure her. She caught the blight last winter."

  


The soldier let the silence linger for a short while. "I'm sorry 'bout your gran'ma, and 'bout what the other soldier did to ya. His name is Ga Kwangho if ya wanna report him to the captain."

  


"The captain would take the word of your soldier over mine a thousand times before he took my truth as his." Sanha scoffs. " _ Report him.  _ You speak like a southman."

  


"I  _ am  _ a southman! My name's Nam Junsu. I grew up on the edge of the sea where it was water from sand to the horizon. If you get the chance, you should—"

  


"Get away from my son!"

  


Sanha's eyes dart up in time to see his mother lob a rock at the soldier. It misses, luckily. Others haven't been as fortunate.

  


In the daylight, Sanha's mother looks deranged. Her hair, which she hasn't cut or combed since his second brother left home, is a matted mess. Her dress, which she's worn since his eldest brother left to join the war, is frayed at every possible edge. The charcoal she writes with day and night has stained her fingertips black. Sanha is used to seeing her in the dim light of her bedroom, where she only looks like a frail woman wishing for her family to return. He flinches at the sight of her in the same way he knows the townspeople would if they saw her. Guilt strikes him as soon as he's moved, but his mother is too preoccupied to take note of his disgust.

  


"Get away from my son!" she screams again.

  


The soldier hardly spares Sanha another glance before turning and sprinting back towards the town, dirt and gravel kicking up under his feet. He trips on one of the overgrown roots of a nearby dying tree as he goes. Sanha's mother chases him for a few meters before giving up, tossing her second rock after him. It falls to the floor only a few feet in front of her, rolling a bit further before stopping on a knot of grass. When she turns around, Sanha has to stop himself from grimacing.

  


"Sanha, my son." His mother walks to him and reaches to his face, caressing his cheeks with both hands and likely smearing charcoal across his skin. "My sweet son. You were gone for so long I began to worry, and that man was following you. I worried he would hurt you before I could get him to leave. Oh, my sweet son."

  


Sanha can see the intensity of his mother's madness when she stands so close to him. Her eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in red. Her lips are as pale as her skin except where they have cracked and bled. Heavy bags and dark circles mar the skin under her eyes. Sanha recalls his mother from when he was a child—bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, lithe and commanding, and  _ well. _

  


Sanha gags as his mother embraces him. Once, years ago, he would've happily returned her hug. Now, when she reeks of burnt wax, vomit, and sweat, he hardly pats her on the back in return.

  


"We must go inside," she says hurriedly. "It isn't safe out here. Come, come. Your gran'mother has been calling for you as well. Did you take my letters for your brothers to the postmaster?"

  


Sanha nods, readying the same lie he's been telling her for as long as she's had him deliver letters. "He promised he'd deliver them."

  


Her letters, however, haven't made it into town for several years. Sanha rips them into pieces once he's out of sight of the manor and lets the wind scatter the pieces. He won't bother the postmaster with pointless tasks, and he won't allow his mother's ravings to be fuel for the fire raging against their already dying family name.

  


Sanha takes one last deep breath of fresh air before stepping through the heavy double doors into the manor. The inside of the manor smells familiar—damp and musty. Each of the floorboards either sags or creaks under his weight as he leaves his mother's side and heads up the stairs, nimbly skipping over where he knows the wood is prone to cracking due to termites or rot. Sanha turns on the landing of the second floor and heads straight for the third.

  


His gran'mother's door is shut, so he knocks softly. No answer. Sanha knocks harder the second time and hears a soft noise from the inside, followed by a call for him to enter.

  


"Gran'mother Soyi," Sanha says as he enters. "I brought you a gift from town."

  


Soyi looks up at him from her chair. Though the blight caught her last winter, the signs have barely begun to show. Patches of rough, gray-blue skin have appeared on her hands and neck since, but if they weren't there, Sanha would think her healthy.

  


"What did you bring me, Sanha?" Soyi hums.

  


Sanha kneels before her and digs into the cloth bag. "I asked it to be brought specifically for you. I had to pay a lot for it, but it's worth it because I know how much it means to you." Sanha pulls out the fruit from his bag. The hard green skin is undamaged from his fall in the shrine, thankfully, and he holds it towards his gran'mother carefully.

  


"Sanha—" Soyi grins and takes the fruit, careful not to brush her fingers against Sanha's as she does.

  


"It's the one, right?" Sanha sits up. "I didn't know how to describe the fruit to the merchant, but I told him it has a hard green skin and they're found near Nambaek."

  


Soyi nods. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes. "Yes, it's the right one. Oh, thank you, Sanha. I never thought I'd see another one of these after Kitae and I left Nambaek." She smiles at the fruit. "He used to love these, your gran'father."

  


"I saved my coin since last summer so I could pay a merchant to bring one here. He was waiting in the market this morning, wearing one of those embroidered shirts you say Gran'father Kitae used to wear all the time."

  


Soyi laughs. "I would've loved to see it."

  


Sanha has always been observant. As a child, he had picked up on the way his gran'mother brightened any time she talked about her deceased husband. Her aging eyes would brighten. Her smile lines would deepen. She would relay the stories of their short-lived adventures in Nambaek as if Kitae was single-handedly responsible for putting the moon and sun in the sky. Kitae had died more than ten years before Sanha was born, but he longs for the opportunity to meet him.

  


"Kitae looked at me like I had caught the madness when I told him I prayed to the Black Deer."

  


Sanha blinks. His gran'mother hasn't spoken of the Black Deer, the goddess Lady Eunseo, since he was a child.

  


"I had to explain to him that my family— _ our _ family, Sanha—was sworn to protect her and her temple."

  


"The t-temple?" Sanha swallows thickly. "Where the man with stone eyes lives?"

  


Soyi nods solemnly. "Our family used to live close to the temple, Sanha. We practiced the way of the path, and we held our prayers for those who traveled through our domain. We prayed to Lady Eunseo, that she might see the travelers favorably and hide them from misfortune in their journeys. But Chunwon began to grow and people brought with them their new gods. They built their shrines on the King's Road where people could pray to other gods easily, and the town forgot Lady Eunseo in her temple.

  


"But we didn't forget the Black Deer. Our family, the Yoon family, moved closer to the road so that the people might find comfort in knowing Lady Eunseo would protect them, but there was no interest. Instead, the shrine in the city was torn apart and rebuilt to a dozen different gods as people came and went—Lady Heesun, Sir Myundae, The Watcher Noori, Mother Duri. A dozen gods have lived in that shrine in town where you go pray to Father Hangyeol now."

  


Sanha leans back on his feet. "I don't pray to Father—"

  


"You can't lie to me, Sanha. You smell of jade every time you come home. I'm old and I'm sick, but my senses are still as sharp as the day your mother was born."

  


Sanha bows his head. "I'm sorry, Gran'mother. I know I'm not supposed to."

  


Soyi makes a noise of disapproval and kicks Sanha’s knee gently. “Go to the table beside my bed and pull open the drawer. Tell me what you see inside.”

  


Sanha does as told. The drawer sticks and he wiggles it free, pulling it open. Set in the middle with no other items to hide it from view is a palm-sized deer’s head and antlers carved out of blackwood. He lifts it carefully, a childish part of him expecting his fingers to burn when he touches the blackwood like his mother used to say it would, and turns it over in his hands.

  


“The symbol of Lady Eunseo.” Sanha purses his lips and turns to his gran’mother. “Do you still pray to her?”

  


“Of course I do. She’s the goddess I swore to love.”

  


“But Mother says—”

  


“Your mother spews the lies my father managed to get her to believe. It’s nothing but a story.”

  


Sanha places the carved deer head back in the drawer and slides it shut. “So Jakyung, the townspeople, the man with stone eyes—is it  _ all _ a lie?”

  


“Yes, and no.” Soyi shifts in her chair. “Tonight, will you meet me at the door into the cellar? I want to pray at the shrine again, and I would like if you joined me.”

  


“What about Mother? She keeps the key on the leather around her neck.”

  


“I’ll put valerian root in her tea at dinner.” Soyi winks. “I won’t let lies or my daughter stop me from praying to whom I want.”

  


* * *

  


Sanha hugs his arms around himself as his gran’mother shakes the key in the cellar door. It’s loud—loud enough to wake the old gods who live beyond the South Sea. He glances down the hall as he worries his lip between his teeth, expecting his mother to come barreling toward him at any moment.

  


The lock clicks loudly, and Soyi huffs. “ _ Finally.  _ Damn thing…” She continues to mutter under her break as she pushes the door open.

  


King Boedeul probably hears the door from Nambaek as it groans on its hinges. Sanha feels the sound in his feet and squeezes his hands into fists as Soyi begins down the steps. For as long as he can remember, Sanha was told to never, ever, under any circumstances go into the cellar. Soyi, however, seems unperturbed. The light from her lantern glances off the dark walls beyond the door.

  


“Sanha!” Soyi shouts. “You get cold feet now, and you’re no gran’son of mine!”

  


For years as a child, Sanha had wondered what the cellar was like. He’d seen his father go and come back with parcels of grains, and once his eldest brother had ventured into the shadows. Sanha, though, was never allowed to even peek down the stairs. Over time, his curiosity had faded, but all the questions rush back into his head as he heads into the cellar. He trails a hand over the wall as he walks, his fingers jumping over bumps and diving into crevices in the wood panels. The cellar, as Sanha understands, was the only surviving part of the old estate. There used to be several homes across their land, and they were all burned to ash by a band of traveling heathens more than fifty years ago. Under the ashes, Sanha’s great-gran’father and Jakyung and their parents had taken protection in the cellar with the shrine to Lady Eunseo, and they’d survived. This new house had been built on the rubble.

  


Sanha comes to the bottom of the stairs as light grows in the room. Soyi carries her lantern away from the brazier she’d lit and sets it on the edge of a long, blackwood table. Tattered tapestries hang from the wall beside faded paintings of people Sanha assumes must be his family. Set against the wall furthest from the bottom of the stairs is a stone altar upon which sits a blackwood statue of a beautiful woman with antlers growing from her head and a heavy cloak around her body.

  


“That’s Lady Eunseo,” Sanha whispers, pointing at the statue. He’s almost afraid to ruin the tranquility of the room.

  


“My father’s great-gran’father carved her statue from the wood of one of the trees near the temple.” Soyi steps towards one of the paintings. “This is him.” Her fingers touch the bottom edge gently. “Yoon Kangmin.”

  


Sanha joins his gran’mother before the painting. Sanha shares no resemblance with Kangmin, in his opinion. Kangmin’s hair is unruly and curly and light brown, and his thin lips are set into a harsh scowl.

  


“He doesn’t look nice,” Sanha says in a low voice. “Was he?”

  


Soyi smiles. “So I’ve heard. These”—she steps to the next painting—”are his twin daughters, Siwon and Yewon.”

  


The girls' identical faces wear identical expressions, the smallest of smiles set in their eyes. Their dresses are identical, too, fit for girls as young as they seem in the painting.

  


“They’re so young.”

  


Soyi nods. “Younger than you are now. Siwon made her way to the Nine Blessed Cities in the summer after this painting was completed, and Yewon refused to have her painting made again without her sister by her side. This one”—Soyi glides carefully to the next frame—”is their older brother, Yongho, and his wife, Eunyoung. My great gran'parents.”

  


Sanha’s mother shares the same nose as Eunyoung, though Eunyoung’s eyes are smaller than his mother’s. His eyes catch the hints of fire damage at the top of the painting, and he quickly inspects the previous ones. Those, too, have been stained by soot.

  


“The painting of my mother and father when they were first wed was lost in the fire, but they had another one painted to replace it.” Soyi drags her fingers across the frame of the next painting. “Bokyung and Jihyun.”

  


Sanha considers it closely. He can see Soyi’s features in both of them, in Bokyung’s strong masculine jaw and Jihyun’s soft eyes. If their family history was held in the cellar, why was Sanha never allowed to see it? Why was his mother determined to shield him from this?

  


Soyi steps to the next painting, staring at it with grief in her eyes. “This is my Aunt Jakyung, my father’s sister.”

  


Sanha’s eyes dart to the painting. He hadn’t known there was a painting of Jakyung anywhere on the estate. His mother never told him, despite the story of Jakyung being his favorite when he was a child. In all his imagining of the story, he never pictured Jakyung as she truly is. She’s beautiful, with a high arch in her nose and round cheeks and plump lips, but not in the manner he’d been told. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders and the dress she wears is brown and simple.

  


“Mother said—”

  


“Your mother lied to you, Sanha. She was but a girl when Jakyung fell victim to the fate she did, and all of the stories she knew were lies spun by my father. Lies he pulled out of the air to make himself feel better about his sister’s death.”

  


Sanha’s brows furrow. “What part of it was a lie?”

  


Soyi’s eyes are fixed on the painting. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you. Join me on the path at sunrise, and we’ll take a walk to the temple, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  


Sanha scratches behind his ear. “We’re going to Lady Eunseo’s temple?”

  


Soyi nods once. “If you’ll accompany me, I’ll answer whatever questions you have. For now, though, Sanha, would you pray with me?”

  


Sanha turns to the altar. “There are no candles.”

  


“The Lady needs no candles to hear our words.” Soyi crosses to the altar and lays a hand atop its surface. “She only needs to feel our presence here, and she will hear us.”

  


Sanha walks slowly, his hand sliding onto the altar even slower. How many of his ancestors had stood in this same place? How many hands had rested where his lays now? How many prayers had been muttered into the air in this room? He takes a deep breath and, as he exhales, he prays to Lady Eunseo.


	2. Chapter 2

_ "I don't understand. Why won't Mother come out?" _

_ "Your mother has difficult days sometimes, Sanha." His father pats the top of his head. "You have to learn to be patient with her." _

_ Sanha frowns. He tears another blade of grass from the floor between his and his father's legs. The day is warm, the sun is high in the sky, and his mother has locked herself in her bedroom for the third day in a row. She speaks only briefly to Sanha's father. _

_ "Does Mother..." Sanha twists the grass around his index finger. "She has the madness, doesn't she? Like Aunt Eunjoo did. Like our family always does." _

_ Sanha's father scratches his cheek, fingers digging into the top of his beard. "Yes, she does. Which is why you have to be patient. Your mother's sister had nobody to be patient with her and she..." Sanha's father sighs. _

_ "She what?" Sanha lets the grass fall from his hand. "Why won't anybody tell me what happened to Aunt Eunjoo?" _

_ "She went to the temple, we think. Lady Eunseo's temple." _

_ Sanha's brows furrow. "You mean you don't know what happened to her? You didn't follow her when she left?" _

_ "The madness took your aunt's mind first, Sanha. There was nothing we could do to stop her." _

_ "Will I go mad, too? Since Mother is, won't I?" _

_ "No." Sanha's father leans forward, cupping his face in both hands. "You are  _ strong,  _ Yoon Sanha. Your mind will hold. I know it will." _

_ "What if..." Sanha sniffles. "What if something happens to you and Mother won't talk to me or Junha or Jeha? What if she won't let us help her?" _

_ "You help her anyway. You leave her food. You remind her to wash. You tell her you love her, and you make sure she stays out of town." _

* * *

Sanha pulls the hood of his half-cloak over his head as he makes for the path. His gran'mother waits for him there already, her face tilted towards the sky. As he approaches, she opens her eyes and begins to walk without a word. Rather than heading along the path towards town, however, she follows it into the trees.

"Gran'mother?" Sanha starts after her. "Where are we—"

"This is the way I used to go to the temple when I was a child."

Sanha steps carefully over a thick root that has grown over the path as he follows his gran'mother. The sun rises slowly, mostly obscured by the trees, but the growing warmth in the air dries the dew and makes Sanha throw his cloak back on his shoulders. Soyi keeps any thoughts to herself. There are a thousand questions in Sanha's mind and he could come up with a thousand more if given the time to think. For now, he keeps the questions to himself.

The thin lightwood trees with their bright green leaves break away in small patches. Parts of the forest around the manor and Chunwon have begun to die because of the blight, leaving behind leafless hulks of wood. The lightwood trees and dead patches give way to larger, hardy blackwood trees with leaves so deep a green they appear blue. Sanha grew up surrounded by the lightwood trees. He would climb them with his brothers and find notes left for him when they decided to play a game. The rough bark had scraped and scarred his skin more times than he could count. Bright green leaves found their way into his hair and the hood of his cloak. They stuck to the bottom of his shoes and followed him inside on windy days. As the blackwood trees wrap around Sanha and his gran'mother, he quiets his breath and steps with care, an irrational part of him worried that he'll wake some beast if he's too loud.

Sanha steps into the sun, stopping centimeters short of bumping into his gran'mother. In front of her is a statue of a man, a longsword gripped in both hands and an expression of fear on his face as he glances back over his shoulder. A few meters ahead is another statue of a man, this one nocking an arrow into a bow. Several meters ahead of him are two more statues, frozen as they run towards Sanha with their arms around each other.

"Gran'mother"—Sanha steps to the side of her—"what are all these statues?"

"The work of the man with stone eyes." Soyi skirts around the closest statue, hardly giving it a second glance, and continues towards another thicket. "If he so wishes, he can turn you to stone with a single look."

"Like in Mother's story about Jakyung." Sanha catches up with his gran'mother easily. "Is Jakyung...here?"

Soyi says nothing and continues towards the thicket. Sanha keeps his breaths quiet as he walks behind her. There's another statue of a man, this one fallen to the floor and cracked. The statue was once a man, with a family and friends. He woke up one day and made his way here, only to be turned to stone and crack as his body petrified and fell to the floor. As they pass more statues, a beast begins to grow in Sanha's stomach. His mother had said the man with the stone eyes was dead, but what if she was wrong? Had that, too, been a lie?

Sanha keeps his hands close to his body as he follows Soyi around the thicket. The trees are all healthy; the gray-blue rot of the blight is nowhere in sight. Sanha frowns. He'd heard whispers in the market that the plants' disease only surrounded the town, but it seemed foolish to think it was true.

Soyi clears her throat and stands straighter as she continues towards a white stone building—the temple—about 30 meters from where they stand. Sanha had missed it as his eyes danced from statue to statue. The building itself is simple in its construction, but there is obvious care taken as well. The windows have been filled with colored glass in various abstract patterns. Flowers, also safe from the blight, have begun to bloom around the base of the temple. Blackwood double doors are set into the stone with antlers carved into them. The ground around the base of the temple is covered in gray stone rubble, a few blades of grass bringing color to the scene.

"Before you get any ideas, know that I am a friend." Soyi looks into the face of a statue then continues slowly. "It's been decades since I've been here, but you'd remember me. My name is Soyi. My aunt is Jakyung."

Sanha furrows his brows. His gran'mother has lost her mind. Nobody lives at the temple...

"I know you can see me, Minhyuk!" Soyi knocks on the face of another statue. Sanha looks at it and for a moment thinks the eyes had been black. "Are you going to come out, or am I going to have to go up the stairs myself?"

"Gran'mother—"

Soyi huffs loudly. "All right. Be a rude host. I'll let myself in."

Sanha stands in shock as his gran'mother stalks up the steps. She pulls the black double doors outwards and enters the temple. The doors hang on their hinges before swinging quietly and falling back into place with a resolute thud. Sanha strains his ears. No noise comes from within the temple for seconds, half a minute, two minutes. Would someone make noise as they were turned to stone? Has his gran'mother been turned to stone? Is he alone in the woods?

"She hasn't changed."

Sanha whips around and takes several quick steps back until he bumps into a statue. There's a young man, maybe a little older than himself, standing with an arm around a statue of a woman as if they're friends. Black hair has been pushed up off his forehead, the same color as his shirt and pants. Sanha's brows furrow when his eyes find the man's feet bare.

"You have the same eyes as Chaewon." The man tilts his head. "You never would've met her, though, would you have?" He tilts his head in the opposite direction, slowly, as his eyes trail down Sanha's body. "You're too young to be Soyi's son. A gran'son, then."

Sanha blinks. "What are—How—"

The man shushes him and steps closer. Sanha holds his breath as the man's hands slide onto his cheeks and tilt his head down, sideways, and up. Sanha's skin turns warm where the man's finger's touch him. They trail off his face and down the sides of his neck, across his shoulders, and finally take hold of his hands. Sanha's confusion deepens as the man inspects his hands carefully, tracing the lines of his palm and the ridges of his knuckles.

"You're Eunjoo's son, then." The man looks into his eyes. "No. No, you're Inha's son. Your nose gives it away." 

The man lowers his hands but doesn't release them. Sanha stares back into his eyes. He can't distinguish color from the pupil as the man's eyes stay still, locked with his. 

"I'm Minhyuk." The man smiles and a dimple appears in his cheek. "And you're Inha's son. What's your name?"

"Sanha." As soon as the word leaves him, he regrets it. 

Minhyuk smiles and squeezes his hands gently. "Come inside. Let's get your gran'mother."

Sanha watches Minhyuk head up the stairs and in through the doors. For the brief moment that they hang open, he hears his gran'mother say something he can't discern. 

A cold quiet whistles through the trees and the statues. Sanha is standing in a stone graveyard, the work of the man with stone eyes, a man he believed to be dead for decades now. Surely Minhyuk isn't the man with stone eyes. Bits and pieces of the story Sanha's mother had told him rattle in his head like pebbles in a glass jar, similar to each other but not belonging.

The large black doors swing open after a few minutes of silence and Minhyuk's head pops outside. A smile appears on his lips. "Come in here, Sanha. It seems there's some explaining to do."

Tension holds Sanha's body stiff as he ascends the steps and enters Lady Eunseo's temple. The inside is built with the same white stone, but blackwood covers the floor. His gran'mother sits at a round table with a cup of tea in her hands, unharmed, her eyes trained on him.

"Sit." Minhyuk guides Sanha towards the table with a gentle hand on his back. "I should warn you, though: the tea isn't that good."

"Leave you out here for centuries and you can't manage to figure it out on your own." Soyi shakes her head and sets the cup on the table.

Sanha slides into one of the two empty chairs, eyes darting between Minhyuk and Soyi. Their comfortableness with each other makes no sense. Minhyuk is  _ young.  _ He looks barely older than Sanha, and Soyi has never mentioned someone by the name of Minhyuk.

"You probably have a lot of questions." Minhyuk sits in the last chair. "To address probably the biggest one: yes, I'm the  _ man with stone eyes."  _ He makes quotes in the air with his fingers.

"That's impossible." Sanha draws into himself, looking Minhyuk over briefly. "You're barely older than I am. The man with stone eyes is—he's a  _ monster.  _ He—You're not him."

Minhyuk points at a potted plant behind him. "That plant. It's alive, isn't it? Perfectly healthy?"

Sanha nods.

Minhyuk half turns in his chair to face the plant. A gray color begins to grow up from where the plant extends from the dirt, climbing over the long limbs of the ivy. It covers the plant in a matter of seconds. As it reaches the ends, Minhyuk stands. He snaps off a leaf of the plant and tosses it at Sanha.

Sanha fumbles the petrified leaf, just only keeping hold of it. The leaf has been turned to solid, rough, gray stone in the same manner as the statues outside. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

Minhyuk sits back down. "Soyi tells me that her father has, um"—he tilts his head, smiling a little—"changed the story. I don't blame him, of course. He wasn't here when it happened."

"When...  _ what _ happened?" Sanha makes a fist around the petrified leaf. "What are you talking about?"

"About Jakyung."

Sanha's eyes widen. "Is she out there? Encased in stone like all those other people?"

Minhyuk drops his gaze to Sanha's fist. "It isn't a sight you wanna see, Sanha."

"Show me."

Soyi leans forward. "Sanha. Now isn't the time."

"Show me where Jakyung is." Fear mixed with anger begins to eat away at Sanha's heart like the blight on the plants. "Show her to me."

"She's dead, Sanha. The people in the town killed her for trying to protect me."

Sanha shakes his head. "You're lying. My mother said she was turned to stone because  _ you  _ betrayed her!"

Minhyuk glances at Soyi. "That's the story your father decided on?"

Soyi shrugs. "It's what helped him the most."

Sanha stands so quickly that he knocks his chair back. He doesn't bother straightening it as he storms outside, frowning against the midday heat. How could his gran'mother expect him to take the word of a traitor? The man with stone eyes killed Jakyung, and Sanha's mother went mad because of it. His father died and his mother's madness deepened, and now he's the only one left who will take care of her. 

Sanha sniffles and wipes his eyes. Was every story he heard during his childhood a lie? Why was he denied the truth for so long? Lies kept him isolated from the town, isolated from any possible friends. Lies are the reason why his brothers both left.

"Sanha?"

Sanha wipes his eyes again as he faces Minhyuk, who stands at the top of the stairs. "What do you want?"

"To apologize for the harm I know I've brought to your family." Minhyuk walks to the bottom of the stairs. "To ask your forgiveness."

"Why do you care about my forgiveness?"

"Your gran'mother forgave me long ago, but she tells me the tragedy of losing Jakyung is what began your mother's spiral towards madness. I can only begin to imagine the impact that's had on you, and I'm deeply sorry for—"

"Is she buried here?" 

Minhyuk nods. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Please."

Sanha follows Minhyuk between the stone statues. "My mother made me believe you were a monster."

"Did she now?"

"She had me believe you were the one responsible for Jakyung's death. She told me you sent her into town but had caused the town to turn on her, and when she ran to you for protection, you turned her to stone on the steps of the temple." Sanha pauses as he looks at one of the statues: a soldier, fear etched on his expression as he grasps at his throat. "She told me that the townspeople turned on you for killing her, because they had loved her, and that you died. She said Lady Eunseo's voice spoke to the townspeople and told them to never return."

"That's quite a tale." Minhyuk stops suddenly and gestures to the ground before him. "Here we are."

There a mound before Minhyuk's feet, covered in grass and vines and flowers. No stone has been set to mark the grave. No name has been etched in place, and no date of birth or death has been transcribed. Sanha squats and presses his hand into the grass.

"You must've buried her yourself." Sanha glances up at Minhyuk. "What happened?"

Minhyuk sighs and sits beside him. "It's a long story. Do you have time for—"

"Tell me everything."

Minhyuk nods slowly. "Okay. Well, I met Jakyung for the first time very soon after she was born. Her parents—Chaewon and Namsun—brought her to me seeking the blessing of Lady Eunseo. Her, her parents, and her brother would return from time to time, as your family had for so many centuries."

"You've been out here all that time?" Sanha settles into the grass beside Minhyuk. "How old are you?"

Minhyuk smiles sadly. "Older than Chunwon. Older than the war." He pauses and glances towards the sky. "Almost as old as Nambaek. Not quite, though." He fixes his eyes on the stone that marks Jakyung's grave. "Jakyung was, uh, fascinated with everything. When she became old enough to make her way here on her own, she did so every day. She loved the goddess more than anybody I'd seen from your family in more than a century."

"So that part in my mother's story is true."

"Yes. Jakyung, though, grew tired quickly. Her interests... They changed, to put it easily." Minhyuk sighs. "She fell in love with  _ me.  _ She knew I had my promises to the goddess, however, so she kept to herself even though she continued to make the journey here every day. 

"By this time, the people in the town had also taken an unusual interest in Lady Eunseo. Jakyung told me that the people in town were fervent in their prayers to Sir Myungdae, the priest-turned-warrior who was said to have chased the old gods beyond the South Sea. She said the people claimed Sir Myungdae to be a demanding spirit who wanted to wipe so-called false gods from the land."

"So the people targeted Lady Eunseo's temple." Sanha frowns. "That doesn't make any sense. The gods are supposed to live in harmony. They're supposed to work together to protect us."

"The gods do, but their followers don't always." Minhyuk pauses, breathing slowly. "Jakyung ran for the estate. She wanted to warn your family, but she was chased further south. Her way back was cut off, so she found her way to me. I couldn't protect her. She trusted me to save her from the people who chased her, but I couldn't. They stabbed her from behind and she collapsed in my arms, right here." Minhyuk runs his hand up the mound. "And they"—he turns, pointing at the closest statues—"were a warning. The others fled, but Jakyung was already dying. She begged for me to kill her, to stop her from hurting, so I did. I laid her down here, and I turned her to stone. The ground grew over her body."

Sanha swallows. "What happened after that?"   
  


Minhyuk sniffles. "Her father came looking for her two days later. I tried to explain what happened to him but he didn't believe me. He didn't see the crowd that had chased her, as he'd been caring for his dying mother at the time. Grief, I suppose, is what led him to spin the story that he did." Minhyuk gives Sanha a small smile. "I wish you could have known the truth earlier. You may not even believe it now, but I swear on my faith in Lady Eunseo that it's the truth."

"I believe you." As Sanha says it, he's surprised to find that his words are true. "It makes a lot more sense than what my mother always told me, anyway."

"I'm sorry about your mother, Sanha. I am. I wish I had a way for you to ease her pain, but even in all my years I haven't found a way to fix the people who've gone mad." Minhyuk gestures vaguely. "It's this place, these trees. It'll drive people crazy if they're not strong."

"What does—"

"Sanha!" Soyi's voice calls out from the direction of the temple. "It's noon. We need to head back now to arrive before your mother wakes up."

Sanha stands quickly, and Minhyuk follows suit. "I'll be right there!"

"Be safe, Sanha." Minhyuk grasps Sanha's hand, squeezing his fingers. "If you can manage, return here. Please." Minhyuk laughs softly. "I don't like to be alone."

Sanha nods. "I have more questions for you, anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to check out this story! I created a map of the region where this takes place that you can see [here](https://imgur.com/H5M0JXq). I'd love if you'd leave a comment letting me know what you think! You can also check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/snibnoom) for brief story spoilers and updates about my upcoming fics.


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